


Courante: Advance and Retreat

by shimadagans



Series: The Butterfly Suite [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Music school AU, Smoking, Underage Drinking, depending on the country but where I'm from its underage drinking, these dudes are dense and im dragging them to happiness whether they like it or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 11:29:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21053663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimadagans/pseuds/shimadagans
Summary: “What the hell was that about?” Felix wonders aloud, confused and flushed to the tips of his ears.“Dude,” Sylvain takes a draw from his finally lit cigarette, “He was definitely flirting with you, duh.”Isn't midterm break supposed to be relaxing? So much for that.Part three of a series, reading this without reading the other parts will leave you in the dark.





	Courante: Advance and Retreat

By just before midterms, Felix has settled into a careful routine.

It takes all of a few weeks for Sylvain to comfortably worm himself back into their lives. It’d be more disconcerting if Felix didn’t get almost overwhelmed by how _grateful_ he is to have him back every time he looks at his stupid, handsome face. It’s not like nothing’s changed, of course; they’re all older now, they’ve all had their parents breathing down their necks for one reason or another all their lives, and this is the first time all of them have been able to sit easily in a long, long while.

Most nights, they find themselves at Ingrid and Dimitri’s place, since it’s the biggest and isn’t shared with someone that not all of them know. Tonight is no different: Ingrid is making a valiant effort to finish her counterpoint assignment without tearing her hair out and Dimitri is singing to himself, finger tracing the staff line of his aural skills worksheet, a suspiciously bent tuning fork just out of reach. Sylvain has been methodically typing away at his music history midterm paper for the better part of two hours, and Felix is itching to get up and do _something_ besides glare holes through his own laptop screen. Sylvain must’ve learned how to read minds since they’ve seen him last because he sighs, stretches until his back makes a worryingly loud noise, and announces, “I’ve had it, I’m going to the gym. You guys down?”

“Can’t,” Ingrid doesn’t even look up from her workbook, grumbling, “Professor Cichol’s gonna have my head if this isn’t right, I _swear_ he’s killed someone over parallel fifths before.”

Dimitri sighs and straightens up from his seat on the sofa, “I suppose I’ve done all I can for tonight, I’ll go with you.” He shuffles off to his room down the hall, still humming.

“Felix?” asks Sylvain, nudging his leg with his socked foot and earning a kick in return, “Ow. Will you come with us and stop trying to dismantle your computer with your eyes?”

Felix snorts when Sylvain leans over to look at what he’s been typing, “You go to the gym now? Wild, I’d think you hate working out.”

“I used to,” Sylvain says cheerfully, continuing to pop his joints, ignoring Ingrid’s groans to stop, “It’s a good outlet, though, especially when I’m stressed. Dimitri’s gone with me a couple times, right?” He raises his voice for the last part and Dimitri calls down the hall, “That’s right.”

“So,” Sylvain shuts Felix’s laptop and leans over it, giving him the full-force Gautier puppy-dog eyes, “You’ll come with us, right?”

Felix feels the full weight of all the stuff he didn’t say that night a few weeks ago, heavy on his shoulders, but he shrugs to mask it. “Like you wouldn’t physically drag me there if I said no,” he says, pushing Sylvain’s face out of the way with one hand, “Haven’t run in a while, that could be nice.”

“You still keeping up with all that martial arts stuff?” Sylvain, thankfully, gets out of his personal space before Felix can do anything regrettable, “I think they have some punching bags and mats and stuff.”

“Not as often as I should,” he answers. It had been a deal between him and his father, if Felix was going to move so far, he’d have to learn how to defend himself. He’d surprised them both by actually enjoying the classes and signing himself up for him, to his teacher’s delight.

All that gets from the redhead is a thoughtful hum, his mouth quirked upward just the slightest bit. Before Felix can ask him why he’s making such a dumb face, Dimitri emerges from his room, changed, “Oh, maybe we could go for a few rounds? I know I’m supposed to be keeping up on my own self-defense, on my father’s request, but I just haven’t had the time lately.”

Felix considers trying to handle Dimitri’s brute strength and sighs, “Fine, but only a couple. I need to be in one piece come tomorrow.”

“Will you go a few rounds with me, too, Fe?” Sylvain asks, tone honey-thick and batting his eyelashes, and when he stands to shove him in retaliation, Felix knows his face must look ridiculous, because he _feels_ ridiculous, “Shut _up_, Sylvain. I’m going back to my place to change. I’ll meet you guys there.”

Ingrid snorts from the couch, but Felix misses both the noise and the measured look Sylvain gives him in his haste to leave, ears burning.

He feels incrementally better after tossing Dimitri aside like he weighs nothing about an hour later.

“I yield,” Dimitri gasps from his place, pinned to the mat yet again, and Felix laughs at him for sounding like some old storybook character, helping him up, “You wouldn’t be so out of breath if you didn’t insist on throwing your full weight at me, it’s too easy to use it against you.”

The gym isn’t too crowded, especially not over by where the plain mats are, so they’ve had plenty of room to maneuver. Sylvain had fucked off to somewhere for a while, saying something about getting some reps in, but Felix has been hyperaware of his presence since he got back a few minutes ago. He could feel his eyes on him the entire last bout, and when Dimitri wanders off to get water, Felix is surprised when Sylvain takes his place on the mats.

“My turn,” he says, lopsided grin in place, “Unless he wore you out already?”

“No,” Felix says, eyeing him for a moment before sliding into his usual stance, only a bit winded, “I didn’t think you were being serious, earlier.”

Sylvain shrugs before he’s suddenly coming at him, faster than Felix expected, aiming to knock him off balance. It takes more effort than he’s proud of, but Felix fends him off, letting Sylvain breeze past him, skidding just the slightest bit. Felix adjusts his posture, and Sylvain tries again, but feints the other direction at the last second, sweeping Felix’s legs out from under him, but not before Felix hooks his foot just so, sending Sylvain reeling, too. A scuffle ensues and Felix barely comes out on top, knees digging into Sylvain’s back, though he’s panting from the effort. Sylvain’s got the right side of his face squished to the mat beneath him, but what Felix can see of the rest of him is tinged pink, and his eyes are blown wide. Felix determinedly resists the urge to do anything stupid like touch the back of his neck, or run his hands through his hair, or--

Dimitri comes back with all 2 of their water bottles filled up and laughs, “Did you actually try to take him on after he made me look like a fool _five times_ in a row?” Felix scrambles off Sylvain like he’s on fire, accepting his water and chugging most of it down in a mad dash to cool himself off. If it’s from the scuffle or from the look Sylvain gave him from beneath him, though, he’s not sure.

Sylvain is slower to get up, peeling himself off the mat and making his way over, stretching out his back, wincing. Felix feels bad for a moment, but it evaporates into fury as soon as Sylvain speaks, voice only a bit hoarse, “Wanted to see what his stamina’s like,” with an exaggerated wink sent Felix’s way.

Shame, heat, and rage wage a short, quiet war between his ears, and he recovers quickly. “You want to see what my stamina’s like? Fine. You have ten seconds to run,” he says in response, voice quiet but eyes locked on Sylvain’s, any of his previous fluster now absent, “Ten, nine…”

Sylvain laughs nervously, “Huh? Why would I be running? What’s—”

“Eight, seven—”

Sylvain starts backing up, looking between Felix and Dimitri, and Dimitri, with an amazing show of sense, shakes his head and raises his hands in a clear show of neutrality.

Sylvain has the sense to start running after Felix gets to five.

* * *

“Tell me, again,” Ingrid says when they get back, with the waning patience of an old saint, “Why you had to be escorted out of the gym.”

“Sylvain fell into the pool,” Felix sniffs, putting his damp hair up, “And then he pulled me in, the fool.”

“Hey, you _pushed_ me into the pool, so I took you with me. ‘Long live the king’,” Sylvain sticks his tongue out at Felix, and Ingrid squints at him, “What? Anyways, its Felix’s fault.”

“Is not,” Felix counters, still struggling with his bun until Sylvain reaches over to help, “Oh, thanks. Yeah, Ingrid, its not a big deal, we’re not like, banned, or anything.”

“It _is_ a ‘big deal’ if I got called about it,” she seethes, and both of them recoil, “Dimitri, anything to add? Did you just watch all this happen and do _nothing_?”

He recoils, too, “In my defense, they’re both faster than I am,” he winces when Ingrid turns fully to him, “Alright, Sylvain made a crude comment, Felix told Sylvain to run and started counting down from ten, and like any man with common sense, Sylvain ran. Felix caught him, pushed him into the pool, started laughing, and then Sylvain pulled him in, and they both started laughing. That’s when security caught up with them.”

Ingrid fixes all of them with a withering look, then sighs, and the whole room eases, “I’ll never understand how the two of you work,” she muses, “But I guess if nobody’s dead and nothing’s burning I can’t be mad forever. Now _please_, for the love of everything, let me finish my homework.”

“Yes, Ingrid,” they all say in varying forms of sincerity, and Sylvain grins at Felix, sly, like nothing _weird_ happened. Felix, recalling how his chest felt tight when he had Sylvain pinned to the mat, is all too keen to let it go.

Sylvain seems to let it go, too, though after the pool incident, he’s strangely….nice.

A few days after, he shows up to walk Felix to his first class of the day, and he’s got coffee with him. Felix’s favorite kind, if the label is accurate; the darkest roast possible with a single shot of hazelnut.

“Uh, thanks,” Felix says when presented with the to-go cup, wary but not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, “Wait, how did you know my order?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was a lucky guess?” Sylvain grins at him, like he’s happy to see him this early, and it does things to Felix’s chest he’d rather not share, “No? Yeah, okay, I asked Ingrid.”

“Why?” comes Felix’s response, immediate, as they cross the main road through campus, just starting to bustle this early, “Do you need a favor or something? Is this,” he eyes his cup suspiciously, “Is this a bribe?”

“What? No!” Sylvain has the _nerve_ to pout at him, “Can I not just want to do something nice for you once in a while?”

Felix considers for a moment while they wait at the corner of the block, waiting for the crossing light. He’s finding it harder and harder to cross-reference the old Sylvain with this new one, and he’s torn on whether he likes it or not. Would old Sylvain do something like this out of the blue, just to be nice? Then again, would old Felix have accepted it at face value?

“Well, I guess you can,” Felix says, squinting up at him when Sylvain crushes their knuckles together and smiles, “But it’s weird.”

“Not any weirder than sending you cat memes every morning to make up for before,” Sylvain counters, patting his pockets for his phone, “Speaking of, look at this picture I got of Jackie this morning—”

It doesn’t stop there, either. Later in the week, Felix is leaving his last midterm of the semester and trying his best to comfort Bernadetta.

“I _definitely_ failed that exam,” she wails, “They’re gonna kick me out of the class, no, the whole music school, n-no, the whole _university_ and I’m gonna have to learn how to drive trucks or I’ll have to live out of a box and---”

“I’m sure you did fine,” Felix jumps in when she finally takes a breath, damn her wind-player lungs, “Er, you studied all week for this one, I was there for part of it.”

“You don’t think Professor Hanneman will flunk me?” she asks, sniffing, eyes red and watery still.

“No, I don’t think so,” Felix says, though it sounds brusque to his ears. He pats Bernie’s shoulder in what he hopes is a soothing fashion, and it seems to do the trick.

She gives him an honest, teary smile and spots friends from her studio, shuffling to catch up with them. Suddenly, Felix feels a presence behind him, and he turns around to punch whoever-it-is in the gut, only to freeze at the sight of red hair.

“Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Sylvain takes a step back, holding his hands up, “Done with that comp midterm now? You’re brave for taking that class your first semester.”

Felix takes a moment to calm himself, a deep breath in and out before he (gently) punches Sylvain in the arm instead, “Don’t…sneak up on me like that, fuck. Yes, it was fine, I’m sure I passed.”

“That’s good, now you can enjoy your break!” At Felix’s snort, Sylvain rounds on him, “No, don’t tell me you were just planning on practicing all break? It’s called a break for a reason, you workaholic!”

“So what if I was? You say ‘break’ like it’s not just a glorified long weekend so the professors can grade all those midterms we just finished.” He shakes his head as they step out of the music building. It’s just starting to get chilly now, smack dab in the middle of fall, his favorite time of year.

“Sure, but,” Sylvain pauses outside the building, reaching into his pocket for his lighter, “You’re not actually gonna practice all break, right? We could do something together.”

The door opens behind them, and Claude and Hilda come out, having seemingly been waiting for the right moment. “An excellent idea, Sylvain! You could come to the party we’re hosting on Saturday to celebrate midterms being over and none of us being dead,” Claude suggests, grinning at the pair of them.

Hilda smiles at them too, but her gaze is too keen to be anything but measuring, darting between them, “Yeah, it’s gonna be an absolute _rager_! Suuuper fun, lots of great food, drinks, great people, all that jazz!” She inspects her nails, painted a bright, blinding yellow, “You’ll both be there, yeah? It’s at Claude’s place. Well, technically Lorenz’s place, but Claude lives there too, soooo….”

“It’d be great to see you guys there,” Claude adds, though when he smiles at Felix, he gives him a good, long once-over that makes him a bit self-conscious, “Two good-lookin’ fellas like you are sure to liven up any party.”

Felix, with absolutely no fucking idea how to respond, feels Sylvain stiffen next to him, “Aw, well maybe we’ll stop by then,” he replies, voice smooth and tone friendly enough, though something about it seems off, “We’ll see you guys there.”

“Nice,” Claude finally looks away from Felix and tips his head at Sylvain, “See you later, then.” Hilda waves at them and Claude gives Felix wink before they turn, heading towards the bulk of campus.

“What the hell was _that_ about?” Felix wonders aloud, confused and flushed to the tips of his ears.

“Dude,” Sylvain takes a draw from his finally lit cigarette, “He was definitely flirting with you, duh.”

“What?! No,” Felix blanches, “He was talking to both of us. Plus, those two are practically inseparable, there’s no way.”

Sylvain looks at him, quizzical, “Nah, Hilda’s got a girlfriend, and I’m pretty sure it’s a monogamous deal. He was absolutely, definitely flirting with you,” he pauses, then lights into a sly grin, “Do you have a thing for him, Felix? Can’t say I blame you, he’s pretty easy on the eyes.”

“Goddess, no,” Felix snorts, derisive, leaning back against the wall of the building, ducking his nose into his scarf, “Sure, he’s attractive but…” _I’ve only ever had feelings like that for one person, and it’s you, dumbass _goes unsaid_. _“He’s a _trumpet player_,” He says instead.

“Huh. Well, he’s sure got a thing for you, it looks like,” Sylvain teases him, laughing when Felix swats ineffectively at his arm, “Kidding! Though, I’m sorry for volunteering us as partygoers. That doesn’t really seem like your jam, now especially.” He puts out his cigarette and turns back to Felix after stubbing it, eyes full of sincerity, “We don’t actually have to go, Fe, if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know if I want to,” he lets himself answer honestly, shrugging, “Haven’t been to a party since I got here, don’t know what it’ll be like.”

Sylvain’s eyes go comically wide and he places a hand to his chest in faux surprise, “What?! You, Felix Hugo ‘I don’t even take it easy in my sleep’ Fraldarius, never a guest at a college party? Unbelievable!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, starting to direct them towards his place, “Laugh it up, Sylvain. Not everyone can be as likable as you.”

He about bites his own tongue off when Sylvain stumbles behind him, “Oh, oh _Felix, _you think I’m likable?”

In his effort to fend off Sylvain’s insistence on hugging him right there, they both almost walk right into Byleth, who’s eyeing them with something like amusement, “Having fun, boys?”

“Ah, Professor!”

“Shit, uh—”

“It’s alright, drop the formalities, you’re on break,” they shake their head, “Actually, I’m glad I caught you two before you leave campus. I have an opportunity for you, well. For the quartet.”

They hand the two of them a fancy-looking pamphlet for a donor event for a university-wide charity gala, slated for the end of the semester, “It’s a pretty big deal, and in a meeting earlier today, I suggested you four, since you’ve already played together. Honestly, I don’t know if any of the other chamber groups is up for playing at this event quite yet, and since it’s a fairly small space, bringing a large ensemble is out of the question.”

Felix looks up at Sylvain and they both look at the pamphlet, then back to Byleth, who smiles, “No need to respond quite yet. Just let Ingrid and Dimitri know, and let me know if you’re interested when you get back from break. Oh, right, you’ll get paid too.” They turn to go, adjusting their shoulder bag and waving, “Be seeing you.”

Sylvain whistles low as they depart, eyes scanning the pamphlet again, “What d’you think, Fe? Seems…uptight.”

“Missing those stuffy parties back home?” Felix takes the pamphlet from his hands, unable to read everything from where Sylvain had been holding it, “Pretty short notice, too. I’m alright with it, if you all are.”

Sylvain takes a picture of the pamphlet, sends a message to the group chat Felix barely bothers checking, and snakes his arm through Felix’s, “Okay, enough of that. Break time now.” He all but hauls Felix to his own dorm, Felix fighting him half-heartedly all the way through campus.

* * *

They end up back at Sylvain’s place (once Felix grabs stuff for the weekend), lounging on Sylvain’s couch, in the comfiest clothes they have, with a whole slew of conspiracy theory documentaries lined up for the weekend. (Un)fortunately for Felix, this means he must deal with no-shirt Sylvain because the man runs as hot as a furnace, even in the dead of winter, and it makes looking at him even harder.

“So,” Sylvain says, because he is apparently incapable of letting things lie, nursing a tub of strawberry ice cream, “If Claude _isn’t_ your type…”

“Do I have to have a ‘type’?” Felix sighs over his own coffee ice cream, legs all tangled with Sylvain’s on the comfy but tiny couch, “Didn’t think that was a qualification for being into dudes.”

“No, but,” Sylvain gives this silly little one-armed shrug, “Most people do, that’s all. Me, for instance, I like people with similar senses of humor, usually a little shorter than me—”

“Nope. Nu-uh. Don’t wanna hear it,” Felix points his spoon at Sylvain, “Plus, I don’t think I’ve liked enough people to really have a type.”

“Mmm, high standards, gotcha,” Sylvain says, as if to himself. The credits roll for this segment on Bigfoot, and Sylvain clicks to the next episode, “Wait, you like people? Holy shit.”

That earns him a kick that Sylvain returns, smirking, “What? Can you blame me for being surprised? You’re not exactly Mr. Affectionate. Have you ever had like, an actual _thing _for someone? Or with someone?”

“Nosy,” Felix says, but he knows he can’t get out of this line of questioning unscathed without giving Sylvain some kind of information, “Only once, really. Don’t know if it’s high standards or not but that’s it.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Sylvain coos, and Felix kicks him again, “No, really, I’m being serious! Who is it? Do I know him?”

When Felix scowls at him in warning, Sylvain sets his ice cream aside and rests his hands in his lap, the very picture of false innocence, “Am I not allowed to know? Fine, that just confirms it’s someone I know.”

“I’m not saying anything else,” Felix grumbles, knowing full well his ears must already be pink.

“Knowing you, it’s not anyone you met here since you take forever to warm up to people, and knowing Ingrid and Dimitri, they would’ve mentioned this special someone to me already,” Sylvain hums to himself, though his eyes don’t leave Felix. Felix, in turn, makes a very impressive effort to keep his eyes on the screen, “Which means it must be someone who doesn’t know, oh…”

Felix snorts at him, “Yes, he doesn’t know, and if I have it my way, it’ll stay like that.”

“But Fe!” Sylvain whines, moving his hands to Felix’s shins, “It can’t be healthy to not say _something_ to him!”

“Sylvain,” Felix says, lowly, having had just about enough of this conversation, “To me, it’s not worth risking losing his friendship over something that wouldn’t happen, anyway. So, drop it. _Please_.”

Sylvain look like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and shakes his head, “Alright. But it won’t stop me from worrying.”

“Whatever,” Felix tries to play it off like his heart’s not racing in his ears. Sylvain’s hands go back to his ice cream and Felix nudges him with his foot, “What about you, huh, busybody? Catch feelings for anyone recently? Only feels fair if you share, too.”

Sylvain gives him a calculating look, but he shrugs and looks back to the screen, “Believe it or not, even though I’ve had flings—plenty of them, really—” Felix groans and Sylvain snickers, “No, really, you know Ferdinand? The vocal major? Anyway,” he clears his throat and sounds strangely serious, “Really, I’ve only had real, long-lasting feelings for one person. And I don’t think I have a chance with them, not anymore.”

“Huh,” Felix turns to look at him, confused and maybe a bit concerned, “Not that I don’t believe you, it just seems…”

“Unbelievable? Strange? Unfortunate?”

“Lonely, mostly,” Felix responds, contemplating, “And a bit unlike you. People do like you, even if you end up chasing them off with false affection.”

“Ouch, kicking me while I’m down,” Sylvain frowns at him, “I’m trying to be vulnerable, y’know, and it’s not exactly easy.”

“I know,” Felix says, quieter than he wants, “But you deserve the truth.” _Or as much of it as I can give you_. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts out, “Why don’t you think you have a chance anymore? Did something happen?”

“Yeah, a lot of things did,” Sylvain gets this faraway look in his eyes, but he shakes it away too, “But I’ve kinda found peace with it, y’know? Like, I know they’re alright, they seem happy enough, so I’ll just try to be there for them.”

Felix just nods, caught between wondering who it is Sylvain cares so deeply for and hoping he never knows. He can hardly talk, after all.

Sylvain stretches and clicks through the streaming service again, “Ugh, okay, enough heavy talk, we’re supposed to be relaxing. You ever seen this British baking show? Shit’s wild.”

Felix lets it go, but he gets the distinct feeling that Sylvain stopped himself from sharing more, that maybe he’s missing something important.

* * *

Saturday rolls around, and Felix finds himself amicable to the idea of at least showing up to Claude’s party, if only to see what it’s all about. It’s also a bit of a dig at Sylvain, whose mother-henning is getting dangerously close to crossing the line between best-friend-worrying and something’s-up-worrying. He changes into that one black turtleneck he likes the best and figures he might as well go all-black since it’s mostly what he has. He lets Sylvain cajole him into putting on just the tiniest smidge of eyeliner and fishes his hair into something to keep it out of his face. When he presents himself for Sylvain’s apparent expert opinion, he gets a quick nod of approval and a “Wear those little black hipster boots, you know the ones.”

“They’re not hipster boots,” Felix grumbles, but he puts them on anyway. They’re _comfy_.

Sylvain himself looks the very picture of effortless, though Felix knows it took him at least half an hour to get his hair to stand exactly like that.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks, for the hundredth time, as they approach the door to the fuck-you big house that Claude apparently lives in. There’s music already pounding through the walls and a few people are out front on the lawn, probably catching a breather.

“Yes, quit asking,” Felix murmurs to him, double checking that he has his phone and keys on him before Sylvain knocks on the door.

The door swings open and Claude lights up when he sees them, “Guys, you made it!” Felix gets a one-armed hug he can’t dodge and Sylvain gets a clap on the back, “Great to see you, you’ll have to excuse me, I gotta go grab more ice, but,” he waves to someone in the next room over, then his eyes flit back to them, Felix specifically, “There are drinks in the kitchen, help yourself. Hey, Hilda! Felix n’ Sylvain are here!”

Hilda materializes in the crowded entryway, bubblegum pink hair pulled back, and she sways just slightly as she rounds the corner, “Guyyyys! SO glad to see you, ohmigosh, c’mon, there are some people you just HAVE to meet!”

The music playing isn’t half bad, though occasionally some meme song comes on that makes everyone in the vicinity of a speaker groan, and it looks like they actually had the foresight to move furniture around to make room for all the people here. And there are a _lot_ of people here. A lot of them, Felix doesn’t even recognize, but Hilda pulls them towards some of the people from the music department, perhaps on purpose. Somehow, they both end up with drinks in their hands, delivered in those bright red cups that just scream college party by Hilda, who winks at them before wandering off.

Whatever’s in it doesn’t smell sickly sweet, so Felix sips at it as they talk to people he vaguely knows; that one blue-haired percussionist has his arm slung around the one sleepy-looking tenor, so he feels a little less uncomfortable being there. He even gets Dorothea to laugh, which Sylvain looks shocked at, so Felix considers it a win, nudging him with his elbow. At some point, Sylvain gets pulled off by some girl from the jazz department, and he mouths to Felix that he’ll be back in a second. So, Felix does what any reasonable introvert would do and makes his way outside to get a break from talking to so many people. He’s feeling pleasantly warm, courtesy of the drink, so he just sits and lets himself cool off a bit, rolling up his sleeves. He’s not alone for long before someone joins him, and he turns, smiling, expecting to see Sylvain, but is greeted by Claude instead.

Before he can say anything, Claude grins at him, “Having fun so far?”

Felix just nods and Claude seems willing to fill in the blanks, “That’s good. You don’t seem like a big fan of parties, so I was surprised when you showed up. Pleasantly surprised.”

“Why did you invite us then?” Felix leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky, just a sliver of the moon out.

“Dunno. Thought I’d take my chances. You’re not very approachable, mostly cause you’re scary hot,” Claude responds, and Felix feels his gaze on his face, “Like. Kinda intimidating, in a good way. Speaking of which,” he drawls, resting a tentative hand on Felix’s shoulder, “Have I gotten a chance to tell you how _nice_ you look tonight?”

“Uh, er, no,” Felix stutters, wholly unused to being so openly complimented about his appearance of all things, “Thanks?”

“It’s just the truth,” Claude murmurs, and, oh, when did he get so close, “I’m _really_ glad you showed up, Felix.”

“Oh, there you guys are!”

Felix, leaning away from Claude and his too-smooth words, glances up to see Sylvain coming down the steps to the front entrance, and while his face and tone are nothing but friendly, his eyes are dark with something Felix can’t recognize, “Thought I’d find you out here, Felix! Oh, Claude,” he says, turning up the charm about 120%, “Lorenz was looking for you, I think he’s complaining about the music choice or something.”

“Of course he is,” Claude says, mostly under his breath, and his expression goes perfectly neutral as he gets up, giving Felix an confusingly apologetic smile and room to breathe, “Well, thanks for coming, guys! I’ll see you guys around!”

As soon as Claude gets out of ear shot, Sylvain’s gaze goes from guarded to concerned, hands hovering above Felix’s shoulders, “You okay? He didn’t try anything…stupid, did he?”

Usually, Felix would shove him and tell him to quit worrying, that he’s fine, nothing’s wrong, but something in Sylvain’s eyes sets him off-kilter, so he just shakes his head and rolls his sleeves back down, suddenly feeling chilly.

“Do you want to leave?” Sylvain asks, more gently than Felix thinks he deserves, and when he nods, Sylvain gets an arm around his shoulders and asks no more questions about what happened.

When they get back to Sylvain’s place, he insists that Felix take his bed, “You’ve been on that couch enough, you know how rough it’ll be to sleep on.”

“Exactly why you won’t be sleeping on it, either, with your old man back,” Felix retorts, already combing out his wet hair in the bathroom mirror, “Your bed’s big enough for both of us, dipshit.”

Sylvain pauses there, in the doorway, halfway on his way to the shower, eyes narrowed in concern, “You sure you’re okay with that? I’m a bit of a blanket hog, I’ve been told.”

Felix does his best to but on a brave face despite his insides having an all-out battle between _I don’t want to be anywhere else_ and _Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer too_, rolling his eyes, “You also produce unnatural amounts of body heat, so it’s fine. Quit arguing and get clean, you smell like smoke.”

Felix crawls into Sylvain’s bed and faces the wall, willing himself to fall asleep or at least be relaxed enough that he can pass for asleep by the time Sylvain gets back, but he has no such luck. Sylvain slumps into the room a few minutes later, hair still damp, though he’s quiet until the bed creaks as he settles in, giving Felix as much space as he can. He’s musing that he’s lucky Sylvain’s got a queen-sized mattress when there’s a gentle touch to his shoulder, “Fe?”

He sighs and rolls over to face Sylvain, not expecting to see the worry creasing his face, barely visible in the dim streetlight shining in from the window, “What?”

Sylvain bites his own lip, seemingly struggling to find the right words before he puts a hand on Felix’s arm, “Sorry for freaking out earlier. I just...I saw you two together, and you looked alarmed and something felt off, so I rushed over and put my nose where I shouldn’t have. What you do and who you do it with is your own business, so—”

“Ugh, shut up,” Felix jabs a finger into Sylvain’s side, earning an “Eep!”, “You’re thinking so loud it’s keeping your neighbors awake.” When Sylvain sighs and the warmth barely reaches Felix’s collar, he taps Sylvain’s arm, “It’s alright, I’m not mad, just…confused. I don’t know why he was acting like that, but I’m not interested. Maybe flattered, I guess, but not interested.”

“Oh,” Sylvain takes a deep breath, and he reaches out to hug Felix loosely, giving him room to get out of it if he wants. He’s always done that, toed the line between what Felix is comfortable with and what he’s not, always giving him an out, “Still, sorry. Sucks that your first party had to be like that. Though honestly,” Sylvain chuckles, low, and Felix has to suppress a shiver, “That’s what most of the ones I’ve been to are like.”

“Well, I don’t have to go to another one to figure out that much,” Felix snorts, and maybe it’s the remnants of whatever he had to drink making him like this, but he scoots closer, close enough that he can sling an arm over Sylvain’s side and tuck his head close to Sylvain’s collar, “Now, I’m exhausted from having to socialize so we’re going to sleep.”

A hand comes up to comb through his loose hair and he can hear the smile in Sylvain’s voice, “Sure, Fe. Sleep well.”

“You too,” he murmurs, but the hand in his hair is already pushing him right to the fuzzy edge of sweet, dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> No actual music references required this time around, but you should all know Claude definitely puts the most ridiculous shit on his party playlists. Also, Claude and Hilda definitely are playing matchmaker in weird, scheme-laden way that only they can pull off.


End file.
